Revival
by xPerfectlyImperfect
Summary: She was drowning in despair, choking on tears, gasping for air. The man before her wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her hair as she cried. "I'm sorry, Andromeda," Kingsley whispered - KingsleyAndromeda. Canon-compliant. :)


**Revival**

* * *

**January 15, 1998**

* * *

It was January when her world shattered. She wanted to believe that she had heard the old, dusty radio incorrectly, that the name that had come forth from the worn, static-producing speakers was not that of her husband. But she knew it was to no avail.

She gripped the counter, with trembling fingers and pallid knuckles. Her tears fell like snowflakes, her heart crystalizing – encased in ice – like the river. Her life flashed before her: a whirlwind of color and noise and laughter, only to be drowned in a sea of anguish.

She found her daughter in the parlor and when she finally found the strength to share the news, they wept. She held her daughter tightly, her only anchor – her only reason to carry on – her only means of survival.

* * *

**April 5, 1998**

* * *

She held the little bundle in her arms. Slowly, she felt the cold melting away as she counted fingers and toes and smiled at quiet coos and giggles. He had a mass of mousy brown hair and warm brown eyes and he was completely beautiful. She carefully placed the delicate little parcel into her daughter's waiting arms. Tears of joy stung her eyes as she thought of the miracle that had just occurred.

Sadness tugged at her heart as realization unsettled her happy spirit: Teddy – the beautiful, baby boy – would never know his grandfather. He would never hear the voice of the man he was named after. He would never hug the man who was supposed to spoil him rotten; slip him sweets before dinner and give him extra knuts and sickles to spend.

But, regardless of the sadness, the disappointment, she had to smile.

That little boy gave her a reason to hope.

* * *

**May 3, 1998**

* * *

The tea cup fell to the floor, shattering into a million, unrecognizable pieces.

She was drowning in despair, choking on tears, gasping for air. The man before her wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her hair as she cried. Her daughter – her beautiful baby - was gone. Killed. Her son-in-law was taken too. Everything was ripped away from her. Her entire family destroyed in a few short months.

She felt nothing but pain, nothing but dread, nothing but remorse for things left unsaid. She had been too sure that they would return, too sure that they would all enjoy a long, peaceful life together.

"I'm sorry, Andromeda," Kingsley whispered as she pulled away.

As if on impulse, she approached the cradle where her grandson lay, sleeping. His head was filled with dreams. _What did babies dream about? _Happiness, vivid colors and rainbows and everything light and beautiful, _she was sure. _

He would not remember his mother. He would not remember his father. She could show him pictures, tell him stories; explain that they died as heroes…

But he would _not _remember.

He wouldn't remember his mother holding him and his father's laugh; the way his mother eyes' lit up when he smiled.

He would have no memories of them. It would be as if they never existed.

That was when she knew she had to try.

She had to survive. She owed it to baby Teddy. She had to protect him, tell him about his grandfather, his mother and his father. She had to hold him and kiss him and love him.

That was her job now.

She was the only thing he had left in the world.

* * *

**April 5, 1999**

* * *

A year, today. His hair was jet black and his eyes a vivid shade of aquamarine as he shoved cake all over his godfather's face. He smashed his hands into the mess of desert that remained on his plate. He clapped his hands, sending clumps of chocolate cake and creamy frosting flying across the dining room. The guests laughed.

It was a happy moment.

She smiled as she watched Ginny Weasley clean his face and hands before handing him a present. He giggled and ripped the brightly colored pieces of paper to shreds.

And as she looked around the room, she realized she _wasn't_ alone.

Her eyes met a gaze, deep brown, warm and comforting.

He touched her hand as he smiled, "You are wonderful, Andromeda. I think he is going to turn out as perfect as his mother."

* * *

**May 3, 2001**

* * *

Three years, today, since her baby was taken away from her. She only cries a little, while Teddy plays with the train set that Uncle Kingsley bought him for his birthday. She hears him: _vroom, vroom, vroom, _and the squeaking of little toy wheels as she leans against the counter. The last three years play before her eyes, a docudrama of struggle, hope and despair. She survived. Teddy was brilliant. She had support and love and hope.

She closed her eyes as tears began to flow, but not tears of sorrow, tears of promise.

And she smiled when she heard that familiar knock on the door.

* * *

**May 3, 2002**

* * *

He visited regularly and even though he was the new Minister of Magic – with a conflicted schedule and the entire wizarding world to worry about – he always came on those two days. He always brought a birthday present for Teddy. He played with him and had cake and reminded Andromeda that she was doing everything right – even if it felt like she failing.

And he always came on May 3, the day that he had to deliver the news that no mother wants to hear.

He brought her roses, held her if she cried and reminded her that her daughter was always with her – in her heart. He held her hands and promised that he would always help them, support them.

He kept that promise for four long years.

But promises were made to be broken, especially when you have as many obligations as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

* * *

**May 3, 2003**

* * *

The stars were sparkling. She hummed a melody, soft and sweet, her eyes closed. He hadn't come. She knew he was a busy man, but she couldn't fight the sadness enveloping her. She had begun to look forward to his visits, crave them, even. She loved his presence, the warmth that he radiated, his fierce, yet gentle nature. She couldn't begin to wrap her head around the wonder that was Kingsley Shakelbolt, how a man, so aggressive when perusing a dark-wizard or fighting a new legislation, could be so tender with a baby boy and a woman with a broken heart.

She was terrified, yet eager, weary, yet reckless. She hadn't felt this way in years.

She hadn't felt this way since Edward "Ted" Tonks had strode into her life, all gallant and free, and swept her off her unexpecting feet.

Andromeda Tonks was in love.

Her life was a never-ending sea of emotion, but this tidal wave was thrilling.

That's why the tears slowly began to fall from her eyes.

She didn't want to be disappointed, to act so childish. He was a busy man, she understood that, but he had _always _shown up on this day – always.

She closed her eyes, fighting back the wave of melancholy that washed over her – how silly, to be so sad over something so _unimportant. _

_But it was important; _something that might seem so miniscule to someone else was vast in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

The deep voice brought a smile to face, her eyes popped open.

He dropped to his knee in front of her, his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, I'm late."

"No, Kingsley, you're just in time." She touched his face and her heart leapt. She wanted nothing more than to press her lips to his.

_Was that wrong? Should she feel guilty? She was once a married woman. Was it wrong to feel love for another man? _

_No, _she told herself_. You will never forget Ted. You will always love him. He wouldn't want you to be alone, to be lonely. He wouldn't like the idea of you living a half-life, when you could be enjoying a full one. All he ever wanted was your happiness. _

Kingsley Shaklebolt made her happy. He made her smile when she felt like crying. He helped her strive, gave her strength, helped her endure when all she wanted to do was give up. He helped her stay strong enough to raise the beautiful five-year boy who was sleeping happily in his room, tucked safely under covers and dreaming dreams of family, love and happiness.

"What are you thinking about, Andie?" He squeezed her hand, ripping her away from her silent reverie.

"You," the corners of his lips twitched, forming a rather charming smile.

"And what, may I ask, where you thinking of, in regards to me."

_So formal. _She rolled her hazel eyes, a smile curving her lips. "That I love you Kingsley. I don't know what I would have done, all of these years, if I didn't have you."

He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes unwavering as he stared into hers. Then, with one fluid motion her rose, pulling her to her feet. His arms wrapped around her waist as his lips overtook hers.

"You have no idea how long I have been waiting to hear you say that."

* * *

**an. **it had to have a fluffy ending, you know. I enjoyed writing this I'm proud of it and I like it... but I don't know. I hope it was enjoyable. This is for the All Sorts of Love Competition: Mystery Box – I was given Kingsley/Andromeda and the prompts broken teacup, snowflakes and impulse.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize. I only own this plot… I proofread but I'm not perfect. Sorry for any SPaG mistakes.

**Reviews make me smile, so leave me one {even just a little one} pretty please =D – danie.**


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